‘You bitch,’ she heard him mumble. Then the branches below cracked beneath his weight. She held her breath, hoping that he wouldn’t come any closer. A hazy feeling came across her and the world seemed to tilt. She was dizzy, maybe concussed. Blood dripped down her head. She felt the wetness and she was sinking into unconsciousness.
Sirens blared out from the road as an ambulance hurried to accident and emergency. No one would hear her if she did scream, not over that shrill sound. She tried to open her mouth but nothing came out. She thought of her nanna waiting in the hospital for her to come back with the car. How long would she wait for her to get back? Nanna didn’t like making a fuss. Maybe she would think that Madison had stopped to make some phone calls first, or maybe she thought Madison had popped to the shop. Nanna would wait patiently, leaving Madison stuck.
Bringing her hand to the top of her head, she felt the blood matting her hair and as she touched her wound, the sting brought tears to her eyes. The wooziness was getting worse and her pulsating heartbeat was all she could hear. No longer could she track his movements. The whooshing in her ears got louder and the world began to tilt and spin. She closed her eyes and everything went blank. That was it. Game over. He was coming.
28
Lying in bed at seven in the evening eating a garage sandwich, laptop whirring, electric blanket on, Gina couldn’t get warm. There was something missing in her life or someone. She loved Briggs. She couldn’t say those words to him but she did and he’d lied to her. They’d had a heart-to-heart while lying in bed a few nights ago. She’d confessed to sleeping with someone she’d met in a pub when they’d been moving on from each other and the disappointment had been pasted across his face. Not something she was proud of but she was a woman with needs. After her outburst during the last case, when she’d blamed him for trying to expose her past, their friendship had suffered and they’d distanced from each other. Only over the past few weeks had they been getting closer again, their friendship restored and the old chemistry creeping back in. He should have told her that he’d been dating, instead he’d made her feel guilty for what she’d done. Her cat, Ebony, was curled up by her ankle, purring. She missed the warmth of another human being. A message pinged through on her phone.
I’m sorry. Please can I come over? I miss you. B.
She opened up AppyDater on her laptop and logged into the profile she’d set up for research purposes. She typed in his first name, then searched through the million and one Chris’s that were registered on AppyDater. She narrowed it down to Warwickshire. Again, nothing. She sighed. He was hardly going to register using his own name. She did the same with Wyre and Kapoor. Again, nothing came up. The more she looked at it, the more she saw that a lot of people made up names. She typed in AdamzFun, BearBoy, NoName and BigBoz – again nothing. Maybe those were names that Amber gave to these people to put them in her phone. She glared at her own fake profile. Jill the florist with a photo of herself about five years ago wearing a hat covering most of her head as she looked down. No one would know it was her.
She had several smileys already. Jill’s half-concealed face was obviously desirable. She clicked on the succession of men and gave them a tentative glance before throwing the phone on her bed, disappointed that she was nowhere nearer to finding out who Amber was meeting for a date. She searched for Amber’s profile again and nothing came up. What name had Amber been using? She wondered if anyone on this whole system was real. Gina glanced at Briggs’s message again and replied.
I’m glad you’re getting out there. No need to say sorry. It seems everyone’s on it. You’re not alone anyway. I’m just checking it out now! Might get me a date or two, or three! Go me.
She added a laughing emoji, a bit like the smiley on the app. She waited for a reply but it didn’t come. She bit into her sandwich and opened the files on her laptop as the cheese and bread mulched in her mouth. All CCTV had now been uploaded, all records were up to date and on the system and Bernard had sent his report through. She opened the bar CCTV from the Fish and Anchor and watched as Lennie Dack greeted a succession of couples on the night in question. He showed people to their tables and came back, waiting for the next customers to arrive. All she could see were happy faces of people looking forward to a special night out. One table remained empty, a no-show on Amber’s booking. She had been the one to book the table in her name. Maybe she’d messaged whoever she was meeting to say she wasn’t coming. Maybe Amber was lying to her neighbour and friend, Lauren. But the booking had been made and she hadn’t cancelled. She’d fully intended to go out for dinner that night.
Gina watched as the couple nearest to the door smiled and looked into each other’s eyes, leaning over at one point for a kiss. So intimate and the whole process familiar like they’d been together years. He placed his hand over hers. She bit her bottom lip and smiled at him. This scene was teasing her, showing her something wonderful that she’d never have. Terry had robbed her of intimacy, he’d robbed her of love. It was because of him she knew she could never trust anyone else with her heart. She glanced back and the couple were now eating bread. A glimmer of movement caught her eye in a wall mirror next to the couple. The chef, Jake Goodman, stood in front of the door, his stare on that couple reflected in the mirror. It was if he was watching the woman as she removed her delicate scarf.
A second later, he glanced at the empty table and around at the others before heading back into the kitchen. She noted a question on her pad. Was he looking for Amber?
She slammed her laptop closed. A break was in order. She grabbed the second triangle sandwich and shoved the corner into her mouth. It was unappealing, exactly as she felt right now as she lay in bed at such an early hour, eating food. As she tried to swallow the bread in her mouth, it almost lodged as she felt herself begin to choke up with tears. Why had she been unfortunate enough to meet Terry? She could have met someone like Briggs right from the start and had a whole different life.
She glanced to the side and threw what was left of the sandwich on her bedside table. Self-pity was making her ugly and she didn’t want that.
Her phone beeped again. It was an AD notification. She clicked onto it and glanced at the man’s photo, the man who was interested in Jill the florist. He was about her age, claimed to be a plumber and had a nice smile.
AppyDater was research, that was all. She wasn’t meant to use it. But everyone else was using it and it was becoming ever more tempting. What harm could it do? Her finger hovered over the message button then her phone rang. She held it to her ear. ‘Sir.’ Her tone was formal.
Briggs paused before speaking. Was he going to talk to her like he used to, at least in a friendly way. Was it the message she sent?
‘We need to talk at some point and I’m sorry okay but I’m not calling about us so thank you for answering. We have another potential missing woman. Young, long dark hair, been missing over an hour. That normally wouldn’t be a worry but it’s the circumstances. Her great-grandmother, Betty Falconer, was waiting for her to get her car at Cleevesford Hospital and she never came back with the car. Her name is Madison Randle and she’s a twenty-year-old-student at Worcester. The great-grandmother is still at the hospital in reception.’
It was time to put her emotions aside and get on with her job. ‘I’m on my way.’
29
As Gina walked across the car park, she spotted Jacob standing outside the hospital, shivering against a brick pillar. He waved when he spotted her. From afar, he had a classic timeless look: long overcoat, perfect facial profile, light glinting off his jaw and nose.
‘Alright, guv?’ He placed a stick of gum in his mouth. ‘Can’t believe it, I was just about to get in the bath and then I got the call. Jennifer is now soaking in my bath drinking the bottle of wine we were going to share.’
A splash of rain hit the side of Gina’s face. She hurried under the entrance canopy where the smell of smoke hit her. The no smoking signs were obviously being ignored. ‘Maybe you can pick up where you left off later.’ She smiled.
He nodded as they entered the hospital, not having to go far to spot the lonesome, frail old lady sitting in a wheelchair. She was nursing a plastic cup that looked like it had been empty for ages, drip marks where she’d been sipping dried down the sides. Someone placed a few coins in the slot of a coffee machine and the machine gargled and spluttered to life, the only sound breaking up the evening silence.
‘Ms Falconer?’ Gina headed towards the woman.
The woman nodded and replied in a whispery voice, ‘Yes.’
‘I’m DI Harte, this is DS Driscoll. You called about your great-granddaughter.’
A few strands of Betty Falconer’s white wispy hair had stuck to the shoulders of her navy blue cardigan. ‘She was meant to get the car and take me home but she hasn’t returned. I’m worried about her. I told one of the nurses and they kept saying to wait a bit but then an hour passed and I knew something was wrong. I got the nurse to call you.’
Gina glanced up the corridor. The café had closed for the evening and the newspaper stand was deserted. She sat on the chair next to Betty’s wheelchair.
‘Ms Falconer, what time did you last see your great-granddaughter?’
